


A Strange Anticipation

by bluemandycat



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Top Gun, M/M, the entire canon plot of top gun can suck it, what's better than this guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemandycat/pseuds/bluemandycat
Summary: Sterling Archer, callsign "Ocelot," is the best at Top Gun.At least until Dutch Dylan shows up.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i just watched top gun and this is a good au. leave me alone.
> 
> title taken from kenny loggins' "playing with the boys." you know, the song that plays during the homoerotic volleyball scene. 'nuff said.

Barry is smoking in bed, even though Archer hates it. Archer knows that Barry _knows_ he hates it, but if he brings it up, he’ll get the same excuse he gets every time. Namely, that if Archer can drink the day and night away, Barry is allowed to smoke after sex.

 

Still, that doesn’t stop Archer from being pissy about it.

 

“Babe,” says Barry, almost too casually, “You look grumpy. Are you afraid that Woodhouse will walk in on us again?”

 

Archer snorts. “If he did, he might literally--Barry, look at me-- _literally_ have a heart attack. And not just because the asshole in my bed gave him cancer from secondhand smoke.”

 

“Is this what this is about?” Barry laughs. “The smoking? I don’t see what your problem with it is.”

 

“It’s rude that you’re doing it right next to me after sex,” grouses Archer. He pouts at Barry. Barry manages to return the pout for a full thirty seconds before bursting out laughing.

 

“Oh my god, I see what this is about,” he says. “I remind you of Ray Gillette.”

 

“What? No!” exclaims Archer.

 

“Come on, babe. Blonde cyborg, smokes, keeps getting injured, has turned you on? We’re a lot alike.”

 

“Ray hasn’t turned me--I’m not into--!” stammers Archer, folding his arms and leaning back in bed. He sighs. “Whatever. I don’t see the resemblance.”

 

Barry’s hand snakes to curl around Archer’s shoulders, and he puts out his cigarette. “Don’t worry. I’m still your type. Besides, unlike Ray Gillette, I have the privilege of banging you into the mattress every time I feel like it.”

 

“You say that almost romantically,” says Archer sarcastically. Barry leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Oh Barry, looks like you’re in the…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “ _Danger zone!_ ”

 

“Wait,” says Barry. “You like Top Gun?”

 

“Like it? It’s my favorite movie, besides the ones by Burt Reynolds,” says Archer.

 

“Tom Cruise, eh?” Barry says slyly.

 

“Nah,” Archer replies, shaking his head. “Val Kilmer. Way hotter.”

 

“Just your luck that I look like Iceman, huh?”

 

“And yours that I look like Maverick.”

 

Barry smirks. “Come over here and kiss me.” Archer obliges, and Barry wraps his arms around him as their lips meet.

 

When they break apart, Archer says, “Wouldn’t it be badass if we were Top Gun students?”

 

“Totally,” says Barry. “But we’re more badass than that in real life.”

 

“But we’d be _more_ badass if we were in Top Gun!” argues Archer. “I’d be Sterling Archer, callsign Ocelot.”

 

“Isn’t your code name really Duchess?” points out Barry.

 

“Shut up,” says Archer. “This is my fantasy, I get a better code name.”  


“Fine, fine,” says Barry. “I’d be Barry Dylan, callsign Dutch. The cool, by-the-books student with a vendetta against Ocelot.”

 

“A _sexy_ vendetta?” teases Archer.

 

“Not everything is about sex, hon,” says Barry.

 

Archer laughs. “Most things, though, including this.” His expression morphs into one of excitement. “But just think about us in Top Gun! Cyril is my wingman, callsign Whiz, and Krieger is a mechanic, callsign Doctor, and Lana is, well, Lana, and--”

 

“Oh, boy,” says Barry, settling back. “This is going to be a whole thing with you, isn’t it?”

 

“You better believe it,” says Archer, his excited mood not breaking. “But if all goes well, this will be kickass roleplay fuel.”

 

“Okay,” says Barry, a smile playing on his lips. “Take me there.”


	2. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sterling Archer, callsign Ocelot, meets a new student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, throwing the middle finger at the plot of top gun: fuck off i do what i want

Sterling Archer, callsign Ocelot, was in some deep shit.

 

Namely, he was in deep shit with his flight partner. Cyril “Whiz” Figgis was normally a pretty easygoing guy--good with the ladies, calm under pressure. The sort of guy you’d want to have your back in a combat zone. However, for some inexplicable reason, everything about Ocelot rubbed Whiz the wrong way. It didn’t matter how chill Whiz was, the second Ocelot walked into the room, he would start a fight.

 

Which made it all the worse that they were assigned partners. Ocelot thought it was hilarious when Whiz would get worked up, but he generally wanted to stay on his good side, for survival reasons.

 

Ocelot couldn’t honestly remember why Whiz was mad at him. He had been pretty drunk at the time. Something about serenading one of their instructors in a bar, maybe? Even sober, it didn’t seem like a huge deal.

 

Still, it was important to get Whiz un-mad as soon as possible. They had a test today, and it was important that Whiz didn’t try to get him killed.

 

Ocelot sped up down the hall, wondering where the hell Whiz was. He could be in the infirmary, or with the mechanics (he was called Whiz for a reason), or in the locker room, or--

 

Ocelot had been so lost in thought that he had crashed into someone going the opposite way. He glanced at the stranger, a fit blonde in a flight uniform. “Sorry, uh…”

 

“Barry. Barry Dylan,” said the blonde. “But my callsign is Dutch.” He stuck out a hand, and Ocelot took it.

 

“Sterling Archer, callsign Ocelot.” Ocelot stood on his tiptoes to peer over Dutch’s shoulder. “Have you seen Whiz?”

 

“I don’t know who that is,” said Dutch. “I’m a new student here. Late transfer.”

 

“Yeah, no shit you’re new,” murmured Ocelot.

 

“Excuse me?” said Dutch, sounding offended. “I’m just as good a flyer as you.”

 

“Bullshit,” said Ocelot. “I’ve got a legacy. My mother was a pilot, and a damn good one at that.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you’re good,” says Dutch. “Not if you’re riding on the coattails of your mommy.”

 

Ocelot just about saw red, but forced himself to focus. Eyes on the prize. “Look, Dutch,” he started. “You’re lucky that my partner Whiz is pissed at me, or else I would kick your ass for that comment about my mother.”

 

“You’d  _ try  _ to kick my ass,” corrected Dutch.

 

“What is your  _ problem _ ?” exclaimed Ocelot.

 

“Just trying to be accurate. Kind of my thing,” said Dutch, shrugging.

 

“Whatever,” said Ocelot. “I’ve got to find Whiz and apologize for God knows what. Enjoy Top Gun, but remember who the top dog is here.” He tried to make himself look as intimidating as possible, all while internally cursing the fact that Dutch was taller than him.

 

“Yeah, okay,” said Dutch. “I know your type, Oce. Just watch your back.”

 

Ocelot brushed past Dutch. He would deal with him later. Whiz was the priority.

 

He found Whiz, as expected, hanging with the mechanics. He was all cozied up, talking shop with Doctor, aka Algernop Krieger. Doctor was creepy, but for some reason he was Whiz’s second closest friend, next to Ocelot.

 

“What do you want, Oce?” said Whiz irritably, adjusting his glasses.

 

Ocelot took a deep breath. “To say I’m sorry.”

 

“For?” Whiz asked, with a crook of his eyebrow.

 

“For…” Ocelot searched his brain for what he possibly could have done wrong. “For dragging you into a harebrained scheme to seduce an instructor. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry  _ what _ ?” asked Whiz, folding his arms. God, Ocelot hated how pedantic he got sometimes.

 

“I’m sorry, Cyril,” said Ocelot. “You realize that the first name rule is the bane of my existence, right?”

 

“Only way to make you really sorry is to include my real name,” said Whiz.

 

“Whatever,” said Ocelot grumpily. “If you’re not too busy cozying up to Doctor, we have a test.”

 

“Oh, like you’re one to talk about cozying up,” said Whiz, though he jumped to his feet away from Doctor.

 

“What do you mean?” Ocelot asked.

 

“Come on,” said Whiz, with a roll of his eyes. “You’re only this much a mess if you crashed and burned while flirting. So who was it?”

 

Ocelot laughed. “Nobody, Figgis. I came straight to you and that’s it.”

 

“You’re such a liar, Archer,” said Whiz.

 

“We’ve got a test,” said Ocelot. “Say goodbye to the creepy scientist.”

 

“Bye, Doc,” said Whiz.

 

“See ya, Whiz. Talk to me later about your engine ideas, I think I could jury-rig something for you,” said Doctor, waving. Ocelot led Whiz away.

 

“That man is going to kill us,” he said, under his breath.

 

Whiz snorted. “You might just die of blood loss first, on account of all your blood going to your--” He was cut off by Ocelot socking him in the arm.

 

“I didn’t crash and burn flirting with someone,” Ocelot hissed.

 

“So, a tentative win then? But you’re still insecure because it wasn’t a yes?” Whiz ventured.

 

“God, shut up,” said Ocelot. “We have a test.”

 

“It must have been a blonde,” decided Whiz. “You’re the worst when it comes to blondes.”

 

“Whiz?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Shut. Up.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments/messages to bluemandycat on tumblr/art??? always appreciated.


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